


Praying Dean Ficlet

by lucifers_left_earlobe



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-05
Updated: 2013-10-05
Packaged: 2017-12-28 11:26:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/991487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucifers_left_earlobe/pseuds/lucifers_left_earlobe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In light of the new footage from Season 9, I'm really happy about Dean wanting Cas at his side. So, here's a ficlet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Praying Dean Ficlet

Dean clasps his hands in front of his face, assuming beggar position. Dammit, this is ridiculous. He  _always_ said that he’d never pray; it’s the same as begging. But, these are desperate times, and he’s a desperate man. So, he rests his elbows on his knees, kneels by the shoulders so he’s facing the floor, and… Well, he prays.

 Dean doesn’t know where to start. Sam’s dying in some sort of spiritual coma, the angels have fallen, and Cas… he’s nowhere to be found. Maybe just a few of the angels fell. Maybe Cas is still freaking Superman. Dean knows he’s not, but denial has always ran strong in the Winchester household, why would he be an exception?

He tries thinking at first; usually Cas and the other angels could read his thoughts. He thinks of Sam’s still body resting on that hospital bed, tubes sticking out of him every which way. He thinks of Crowley, how he’s been nearly restored as a human. He thinks of himself, how he doesn’t know what the hell he’s going to do. He thinks of home, at the bunker, with Cas and Sam, just watching the old black and white. He thinks of Cas, his stupid angel, and wishes above all else he’ll return to him.

It’s clearly not working. He looks around the small church and sees the patrons are quietly whispering their prayers, probably wishing for more money or some bullshit. Dean shifts in his seat uncomfortably; he’ll pray, hell he’ll love it if it gets him somewhere. But he would be a dumbass, well a bigger one, if he believed that speaking in a church would bring him anywhere good. He’s always avoided confessional for that reason.

But, after a moment’s consideration, he figures what the hell. He shifts his hands so they’re splayed on his lap and looks to the ceiling, hoping his answers will show up in the form of a man in a filthy trench coat. Hoping Castiel will show up and make some sense out of this shit situation they are in.

“Cas, I don’t care if you’re human. I don’t care about what you did or didn’t do. Just… please. I need you here,” Dean’s voice cracks and he winces at the sound of his own helplessness. “Dammit, Cas. Just get your ass back here.” He rocks on the pew, slightly overtaken by everything. He  _knows_ Cas can’t heal Sam. He’s known for a while now. He knows that his best friend is probably even more in the shitter than he is. But it doesn’t change the fact that Dean, more than anything, wants his angel by his side.


End file.
